Anyone who is used to the woods knows how apt he is to wander in a
circle unless he keeps his wits about him. There have been many causes
named for this curious fact, and the one that strikes me as the most
reasonable is that we are all either right or left handed. It is rare
that you meet a person who is ambidextrous,--that is, who uses both
hands equally well. When, therefore, he sets out to travel through the
woods without any guide, he unconsciously exerts his right or left
limb, as the case may be, more than the other, and this makes his course
circular.
There are three "signboards" by which a hunter can keep trace of the
points of the compass when in the woods, without noticing the sun, which
of itself is often a great help. Three fourths of the moss on trees
grows on the north side; the heaviest boughs on spruce trees are always
on the south side, and the topmost twig of every uninjured hemlock tree
tips to the east.
Now, while these signs never err, you can see that it is almost
impossible to turn them to account at night.
Ben Ripley had led his friends in an irregular circle, and brought them
back to within a brief distance of the starting point. This was the camp
fire from which they fled in such panic before the approach of the three
red men.
The discovery filled him with dismay, and he darted out in the darkness
for the rocks where the others were sleeping. His first intention was to
rouse them and plunge into the woods again, but a few minutes served to
make him cooler and more collected in mind.
The night was well spent, and a flight of that kind could not do much
for them. It might be all in vain. It would be trying to the last
degree. He decided not to disturb the sleepers.
By and by he persuaded himself that matters were not as bad as they
first appeared. Inasmuch as the fugitives had not returned over their
own trail, the Indians, in case they took it in the morning, must make
the same circuit, and thus be forced to go just as far as if the flight
had been in a direct line.
It was a mystery, however, what had become of the three warriors. They
could not be near the camp, or they would have appeared when the lad
returned to it. They had left, but who could say whither they had gone?
While Ben was debating the painful question, a growing light in the
direction of the Delaware told him the night was ended and the new day
dawning.
The fourth day of July, the second anniversary of the Declaration of
Independence, had passed. He thought of it, standing alone in the dismal
forest with danger on every hand, and oppressed by the great fear that
those whom he loved more than his own life must perish in that gloomy
wilderness.
He did not dare, however, to give way to his sad thoughts. At the first
streakings of light among the trees, he roused his mother and told her
the alarming truth.
"I do not understand it," she replied, alluding to the absence of the
Iroquois; "it must be they are in the neighborhood."
The children were still sleeping quietly on the blanket. No food or
water was at command, and they could not take the time to look for any.
Indeed, the two elder ones felt no hunger or thirst.
The mother rose to her feet and looked around, her interest centring
on the rock and boulders, which stretched away to the rear further than
they could penetrate with the eye.
"I know they are skilful in following footprints," she remarked; "but
if we walk carefully over those rocks, I think they will not be able to
track us. We will try it."
The children were roused and quickly learned what was to be done, the
mother adding that the prayer which she was accustomed to offer up every
morning would be given when they reached a spot where it was safe to do
so.
For fully a hundred yards the four were able to make their way without
resting their feet on the ground. Then the boulders ended as abruptly as
they began.
All now kneeled on the granite floor and asked Heaven to deliver them
safely out of the dangers by which they were surrounded.
If the Indians chose to make search, after tracing the little party to
the stony place, they must eventually come upon the new trail, where it
began again on the ground; but unless they struck it by accident, they
must use a good deal of time in hunting for it.
"Come on," called Ben in a low voice, but with a renewal of hope; "we
shall get somewhere one of these days."
To their surprise, not far from the rocks they came upon a faintly
marked path among the trees.
"What is the meaning of that?" Ben asked, looking inquiringly at his
mother and Linna.
"Men don't do dat--wild beasts," replied the dusky child.
"She is right," added the mother; "the animals follow it to water; let
us do the same."
The haunting fear of the red men made the words between the fugitives
few, and all their movements guarded. They kept glancing to right and
left, in front and to the rear, Linna being probably the most active. It
was as if she inherited from her parents their surprising woodcraft, and
was now calling it into play for the benefit of her friends.
Suddenly something flickered in the path ahead, and Ben stopped short,
those behind him doing the same.
Just in advance--less than fifty yards indeed--a beautiful fawn had come
to a halt. Its graceful head, with its soft brown eyes, was lifted high,
and it looked wonderingly at the people, as if not knowing the meaning,
and too innocent to feel fear. Ben drew up his rifle, for it was a
tempting chance for a delicious breakfast. But almost instantly he
lowered the weapon again.
The fawn was so trusting, so unsuspicious, that a feeling of pity came
to the young hunter. The animal suggested his own little sister, for it
was wandering through the unfriendly woods, with none to protect it from
cruel enemies.
"Go," whispered Ben; "I haven't the heart to harm you; I will starve
first."
"Remember the result of the shot yesterday," said his mother warningly.
"We are in too much peril to increase it."
The lad advanced along the path, and every one of the company smiled at
the fawn, when it stood motionless, staring until they were almost to
it. Then the timid creature turned nimbly and trotted over the trail,
its head so high that, as it turned it from side to side, it saw every
thing done by the strange beings following.
Had the situation been less serious, Ben would have had some sport
with the lovely creature, but he dared not give it much attention. It
continued trotting a short way, and then sprang gracefully aside among
the trees, leaving no scent on the leaves by which the most highly
trained hound could trace it.
A little way beyond they came upon the largest stream seen since leaving
the mountains east of the Susquehanna. It was a dozen feet in width,
quite deep, rapid, and clear.
"Here is enough drink for us all," said Ben, and they proceeded to help
themselves in the primitive fashion described elsewhere.
"That must contain fish," observed the mother; "but we are without the
means of catching them."
"Unless Linna will jump in and haul them out for us. But if we are to
continue our journey, we must find some way of getting to the other
side; it is too deep and wide to ford or jump."
"It must be narrower in other places."
"Oh! look mamma!"
It was Alice who first saw a terrifying sight. An immense black bear,
the largest any of the party had ever seen, swung from among the trees
and came to the water's edge on the other side.
He was so enormous that all started and recoiled a step, even Linna
uttering an exclamation in her own tongue. Ben grasped his rifle, and
held it ready to use the instant it became necessary.
But Bruin was in a gracious mood that morning. He looked at the party
with stupid curiosity, then reared on his hind legs, and swung his
beam-.like paws in an odd way.
"He is inviting us to come over and be hugged to death," laughed Ben.
"He will come over and eat us all up," said Alice, clinging to the dress
of her mother.
"No," replied the parent, soothingly patting her head; "Ben won't let
him do that. Do not be frightened."
"Climb tree," suggested Linna; "not big tree, 'cause bear climb dat
too--climb little tree, den he can't climb it."
"You are right, but we will wait and see what he does. I don't want to
fire my gun unless I have to, and if he will let us alone we won't hurt
him. There! he is going to drink."
The huge creature bent his head down to the water and helped himself.
When he had had enough, he raised his snout and again looked at the
party, who were closely watching him.
This was the critical moment. If he meant to attack them, he would
plunge into the water and either swim or wade across. Ben raised the
hammer of his rifle and awaited his action.
Had Bruin been hungry, he would not have dallied so long; but he did not
seem to see anything specially tempting in the group, and lumbered off
among the trees.
"A lucky move for you." remarked Ben.
"And just as lucky for us," added the mother; "for though you might have
slain him, as I have no doubt you would, the report of the gun must have
brought more dangerous enemies to us."
"I would give a good deal to know what has become of them. It begins to
look as if they did not consider us worth bothering with."
"I wish I could believe that, but I cannot. I think it more likely that
they know where we are, and are trifling with us, as a cat does with a
mouse."
"That makes me anxious to push on. We must find some place where we can
cross the stream. Let's go further up the bank."
He took the course named, leading away from the great bear with which
they had so narrowly escaped an encounter.
To their surprise, they had not far to go before the spot they were
seeking was found. The stream narrowed between some rocks, so much that
even Alice could spring across without wetting her feet.
"I am afraid Linna can't leap it," remarked Ben with a smile.
"Me show you."
And, without recoiling a step, the nimble little one made a graceful
bound, which landed her several feet beyond the other margin.
"Well done!" said Ben; "I couldn't do much better myself. Now, Alice,
you are not going to let her beat you?"
Alice was timid at first, but with a good start she cleared the space.
She landed, however, so near the water that had not the watchful Linna
caught one of the hands thrown up to save herself, she would have fallen
back in the stream.
Mother and son imitated them, and all stood on the other side of the
obstruction without having suffered any inconvenience.
While they were congratulating themselves, a startling reminder of their
danger came in the near report of a rifle. It was from the direction
in which they had seen the bear, and in the stillness of the woods all
heard a snarling growl, which proved that the beast had received his
death wound.
"The Indians are there!" whispered the frightened Ben; "what shall we
do, mother?"
"What can we do?" she asked, helpless and at her wits' end for the
moment; "there seems to be no escaping them."
"Me go talk with them," was the amazing remark of the little Delaware
girl.
"You talk with them!" repeated Mrs. Ripley; "what can you do?"
"Don't know--me try."
And without waiting for permission, Linna started on a light run toward
the point whence came the report of the rifle that gave Bruin his death
wound. Mother and son looked in each other's face in mute wonderment for
a full minute after the departure of the girl.
"She's a remarkable child," finally said the mother; "she has done us
more than one good turn, and, it may be, Heaven intends to make use of
her again, though I cannot see how."
"The Iroquois will recognise her as one of their own race. Perhaps one
or more of them belong to her tribe: they will know her as the child of
Omas, and may listen to her pleadings."
"Alas! they will give little heed to them; my heart misgives me, son: I
feel that the end is at hand."
Meanwhile, let us follow Linna, the Delaware, upon her strange mission.